


Flag Me Down And Take Me Home

by pseudoneems



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, London, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Taxis, taxi driver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3068876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudoneems/pseuds/pseudoneems
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Charles may have acquired a personal taxi driver. Not that he minds at all. </p><p>Or the 'how the hell do I keep getting you as my cabbie' AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flag Me Down And Take Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to hellohakuna for the title and persistent bugging!
> 
> Edit: Now with fabulous [fanart](http://hellohakuna.tumblr.com/post/106711176490/happy-new-year-heres-a-fanart-for) from hellohakuna

"Good aft--" Charles looked up as he threw his briefcase onto the backseat and pulled the door of the taxi shut behind him. "--You again!"

The driver was looking at him with a wry smile on his face, amusement playing in his blue-green eyes. "Me again. Where can I take you today, Mr Xavier?" One elbow was propped up as he turned in his seat, his other hand lightly gripping the wheel with long elegant fingers.

"Victoria Park, please. And I've told you, I'm Charles, Mr Xavier is my father." Charles said. "Are you sure you aren't stalking me? This is the third time you've picked me up in two weeks. Not to mention the other random times before that." He continued teasingly after a moment.

He just grinned. "With how frequently you take taxis, it's more surprising that this hasn't happened earlier. There aren't that many of us you know, even if this is one of the few things left for us to do." The driver snorted as he pulled smoothly out into traffic.

Charles laughed. "Touché."

Erik Lehnsherr, the ID card on the windscreen read in large print, Mutant, Grade Four.

Grade Four. Charles felt a surge of protectiveness, amplified by a strong dose of righteous anger. There weren't many mutants powerful enough to be graded higher than a Three left these days, not after the toll the last political skirmish took on the mutant community. Those who were, were openly treated with suspicion and outright hostility. They were denied employment, denied from renting property, turned away from establishments, forcing many of them to seek shelter in the mutant enclaves that had appeared in retaliation. Charles himself, with the help of some mental confounding, was legally graded a Two. It was that, and years of generous donations from the Xaviers that allowed him to keep his position as genetics professor at the university. He shuddered to think about the state he would likely end up in without the safety net of wealth, or if anyone found out the true extent of his abilities. Mutant Taxis was one of the few companies that had stood stubbornly in the face of opposition, providing a lifeline for the thousands who suddenly found themselves without job prospects or hope. Charles made it a point to support them whenever he could. Besides, even with near constant campaigns to boycott mutant-run companies, they did provide the most reliable and comprehensive service throughout London.

"There's a mutant rally on at Victoria Park tonight." Erik said, glancing back at Charles through the rear view mirror when they were stopped at a traffic light. "Heard it's going to be big."

"I'm hoping it'll actually make a difference this time. Apparently they've managed to get the more mutant-friendly press to cover the event, so they can't just sweep us under the carpet anymore. Are you going to go?" Charles asked.

Erik hummed noncommittally in response. "I don't know. So much of it is just overly idealistic nonsense, it seems almost pointless. But maybe I will, in the off chance someone actually has a good idea this time." He shrugged.

The last few times they'd met, they'd fallen into passionate discussions on recent mutant politics. Not particularly unusual with taxi drivers and the current political climate, but Charles had yet to find someone who could match him point for point like Erik did. Granted, Charles found some of the man's opinions slightly too extreme for his tastes, but his views weren't unfounded, and Charles thoroughly enjoyed their heated debates, even if they sometimes took place far too late at night and he wasn't entirely sober enough for it.

"Not everything needs to be solved with fire and brimstone, my friend." Charles laughed and shook his head. "Doing away with one overlord just leaves space for another to take its place. You know that."

"It would be a far more effective method than the pacifism that's all the rage now. Why anyone believes this government can be reasoned with, after everything they've done to us, is beyond me." Erik grumbled, turning his head briefly to give Charles a pointed glance. "Besides, it's not as if the position would just be left open after its downfall. We're the next stage of evolution, you said so yourself. We should be the ones in control. Why should we bend and grovel at the feet of humans?"

"So they should bend and grovel at your feet instead?"

"Yes."

"Really?" Charles' eyebrows shot up.

Their eyes met in the rear-view mirror. Charles started to open his mouth to launch into a long speech on ethics and basic human rights, when Erik's mask cracked and the corner of his mouth crooked up in a smile.

"Erik!" Charles huffed. If he wasn't so concerned about accidentally sending Erik's taxi swerving into another vehicle, he would have smacked him on the arm.

Erik outright grinned, drawing a giggle out of Charles, both of them dissolving into laughter.

"Maybe I'll see you around at the rally." Charles said a few minutes later as he handed his fare over. "Until then, enjoy your evil overlord fantasies."

Erik was still laughing as he pulled away from the kerb.

Charles didn't see Erik that night, but the resounding success of the rally and subsequent media attention over his keynote speech left him on such a high for the next few days he didn't even notice. He did see Erik again a week later, however, when his taxi showed up to pick him up from his apartment one evening.

"Oh hey, Erik! Apollo theatre, please. Seriously, how is it always you? Not that I'm complaining."

Erik merely took one look at his tailored grey wool suit and smirked. "The new play, hmm? Enjoying your fame, Mr Xavier?"

"Oh god, it's been a crazy few days." Charles laughed. "But no, it's nothing to do with that. My sister's in it, and she's made me promise months ago that I'd turn up for opening night. I'm rather looking forward to it actually. It's a nice follow up from the rally, don't you think? Having an entirely mutant cast of MacBeth."

"Your sister?"

"Mmhm!" Charles nodded excitedly. "It's all Raven's been talking about for the past few weeks. I keep telling her she's going to be absolutely brilliant."

"Your sister's Raven Darkholme?" Erik asked incredulously.

"Umm...Yes?" Erik shook his head. "No, it's just that her face has been plastered all around town recently. It's a bit strange, that's all. I did turn up that night, by the way." He glanced up to shoot an offended look at Charles, but there was no sting in his voice as he continued. "You didn't mention you were the keynote speaker."

"Ah, no, I...guess I didn't." Charles gave a small embarrassed smile. "May I ask what you thought of it anyway?"

Erik arched an eyebrow at him. "Fishing for compliments, Mr Xavier? I'd have thought the papers have given you enough." He teased, wide grin back on his face.

"Hardly! If anything you'd be the first one to shoot me down." Charles shot back, in mock indignation.

"Well then, you already know I disagree with most of your methods. Although, I concede, you did make some good points. A school would definitely be a good start, I must say." He looked up sharply, his gaze serious as he met Charles' in the mirror. "Can you follow through on that though?"

Erik was mesmerizing when he spoke, Charles realized as they launched into another impassioned debate. His normally stern blue-green eyes burned with intensity, strong hands making elegant sweeping gestures in the air. His lightly accented voice laced with conviction was confident and sure. How had he never noticed it before?

All too soon, Erik was pulling into an empty space in front of the theatre stage door and stopping the meter. "Twenty-two fifty please."

Erik nodded his thanks at Charles as he handed twenty-five pounds worth of notes over. "Keep the change. It's been nice chatting, my friend, as always." Charles smiled, blushing slightly as their fingers brushed.

"Have a good evening, Mr Xavier. Enjoy the play, and I'll be holding you to your word about that school."

Charles just grinned, and sent a small salute in Erik's direction as he drove off, before turning and pulling out his phone to call Raven.

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Charles found himself sitting alone in a booth at one of London's most exclusive clubs, drinking himself into oblivion as he watched happy couples move together on the dance floor. Raven was somewhere in the mass of bodies, laughing and giggling with her co-star. Charles frowned, Azaleas, no. He tried again, Azazel? Azazeal? After two whiskies and three beers he was struggling to keep everyone's names straight.

The play had been a smashing success, with reviewers calling it the "most important play of this generation", and marked it a "milestone in the mutant cause". Even the most hostile papers grudgingly admitted that there was little fault that could be found. By popular demand, their original two-week run would be extended in the new year, and as a way of celebration, Frost Productions had sponsored the whole cast and crew in a New Year's Eve party. Which was how Charles ended up nursing his fourth beer in a dark corner of a club, alternating between feeling sorry for himself, and being annoyed that he'd caved and let Raven drag him out. ("Oh come on, you can't stay at home on New Year's Eve! Besides, it's not as if you have anyone else to be with. You and me against the world, remember?")

A couple stumbled off the dance floor and collapsed into a booth next to him, giggling and whispering in each other's ears, completely oblivious to the world around them. New Year's Eve really wasn't the best time for any single person to be out, not unless they wanted a constant reminder of how sad and lonely their life was. Charles had had enough.

<Raven>, his face scrunched up in concentration as he focussed on not accidentally broadcasting his message to her to the whole club. He must be drunker than he thought. <I'm going home. Enjoy the rest of the party.>

<What? Now?!> Her voice was shrill in his mind.<But it's only eleven!>

<All these minds are giving me a headache anyway. I'll see you at home.>Charles sent back as he shrugged on his coat.

<Are you okay? Do you want me to come with you?>Raven's concern bleeding through even in her distraction. You and me against the world, indeed, Charles smiled.

<No, I'll be fine. I'll just call a taxi. Enjoy yourself.>

<Okay. Love you.>

<Love you.>Charles shut down the connection and pulled out his phone, dialing the familiar numbers for Mutant Taxis. He idly wondered if Erik would turn up again, given how frequently he seemed to be running into him recently. Erik with his sharp wit and sharp grin and sharp everything. He was suddenly struck with the memory of Erik laughing at something he said, his mind picking out the strong line of Erik's jaw as he threw his head back, the deep rich sound of his voice, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, and he realized he really, really wanted to make that happen again, and again, forever.

He was too busy freaking out internally at the revelation he completely missed the taxi pulling up in front of him, until a familiar voice was calling out. "Mr Xavier!" Erik was leaning out of his window. Oh god, Erik. "Are you getting in or not? It's cold!"

Charles blinked at him blankly for a moment, before climbing into the back seat, mind half-dazed from alcohol and panic. I'm not sober enough for this, he thought, or not drunk enough. He frowned. Not drunk enough. Yes. That's it.

Erik was staring at him, one eyebrow raised and lips quirked.

Charles stared back at him, confused. His eyes crossed and uncrossed as he tried to keep them focussed on Erik's. "...Yes?"

Erik's lips twitched. "You haven't told me where you'd like to go."

Right. Where was he going? Home, that's what he told Raven. But there was no alcohol there. Pub, then. "Uhh...Caspartina." The beer was shit, but they served mutants at a discount, and that was good enough for his purposes.

Erik's brows furrowed slightly at that, and he looked searchingly at Charles for a moment, but eventually simply nodded, and pulled off.

"Are you going to another party, Mr Xavier?" Erik asked after an uncharacteristically long silence, of which he spent shooting glances at Charles, who was staring out of the window with glazed eyes.

Charles started as Erik's voice jarred him out of his thoughts. That last pint was starting to exert its effects. He could only see the top half of Erik's face in the rear view mirror, but he looked...worried. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel the waves of concern, curiosity, and a faint sense of envy rolling off Erik and leaking through his mental shields, weakened with inebriation.

Erik was...concerned for him. Why was he concerned for him? Gorgeous, intelligent people like Erik didn't look twice at people like him. But Erik was still looking at him, with those beautiful, beautiful eyes. Oh god, he loved those eyes. And those hands, and that smile, and--

"Mr Xavier?" Erik said, louder this time. He was frowning now, confusion and alarm clouding the mixture of his emotions.

Shit, did he just say all of that out loud? Charles tried valiantly to stop the stream of words now that he was aware he was babbling, but it seemed that his alcohol-ridden mouth had acquired a mind of its own.

"--your taxi rides are the best parts of my week. I always hope it's you, when I call. Even if you always insist on calling me 'Mr Xavier' no matter how many times I tell you. Nobody argues with me like you, but nobody makes me laugh-" He cut himself off abruptly, suddenly remembering that Erik had asked a question. "No, I'm not going to another party. I went to a party with Raven and got drunk, but there were too many people and I got a headache, so I was going to go home, but then I realized I like you, so now I'm going to go get more drunk." He finished solemnly. The tiny part of his brain that, due to his mutation, never quite managed to get drunk, or high, was absolutely horrified at his words.

"What--" Erik's eyes were now wide and incredulous. He swore under his breath, and swung the taxi into a U-turn so sharp and fast, even Charles in his intoxicated state marveled that they didn't just flip over completely. Mutations were beautiful, beautiful things.

The rest of the short journey was spent in silence. Erik kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road, and the gentle swaying motions of the taxi eventually sent Charles into a light dose.

Charles awoke to Erik calling his name and gently shaking his shoulder. He blinked blearily, looking past Erik's head so distractingly close to him with how he was bent over by Charles' door. "That's not the pub." He mumbled.

"No. I...thought it would be best if I sent you home instead." Erik shifted, looking everywhere but at Charles. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, Charles thought he should probably take offense at the presumption, but the thought of going back to his flat felt so good right then that he couldn't find it anywhere within himself to be angry. Even more so when Erik asked, "Do you think you can make it up on your own?"

He waited patiently as Charles' face contorted in a physical equivalent of the gymnastics he was putting his mind through as he contemplated the distance from the kerb to the apartment door, and then the eight flights of stairs up to his flat. "I don't know." He concluded eventually.

"Come on then." Erik said gently, helping Charles out of the car and pulling an arm to sling around his shoulders. A strong arm slipped round Charles' waist to support him, and together, they shuffled their way up into Charles' flat. With the proximity and inebriation, Charles couldn't resist leaning on Erik a little more than was necessary, feeling the hard planes of Erik's body shifting with every step.

Erik carefully set Charles down on the couch, and headed off in the direction of the kitchen. He re-emerged with a large glass of water, made sure Charles finished it, and refilled it again.

Charles felt much clearer after the water, some of the haze dissipating, leaving him still pliant and relaxed, but more in control of his faculties. He turned to where Erik was perched on the other end of the couch. "Thank you."

Erik just shrugged and waved a hand. "Are you going to be alright?"

Charles slowly nodded his reply. "I think so. And-" he blushed, "I'm sorry for what happened just now."

The sudden pang of disappointment from Erik was so strong, Charles snapped his gaze to him in confusion. "Erik?"

For a moment, Erik looked like he was about to say something, but then he simply looked down at his clasped hands and said quietly, "I...I should go." He stood up, a distance opening up between them that had never been there before. "Have a good evening, Mr Xavier."

"Why are you leaving?" Erik stilled as Charles' hand shot out to grab his wrist. Through the contact, the underlying hurt he was exuding was amplified. "Did I...do something?" Charles asked.

"No. No, it's nothing. You're drunk, I won't hold you to anything you said." Erik was steadfastly staring at the floor.

"What I said...Erik, what-" Charles rose to his feet to put himself level with Erik, steadying himself with the grip he had on Erik's wrist. "Is this about what I said in the taxi?"

"It's fine. You don't have to explain, I-"

"I meant every word I said, Erik." Charles cut him off with a gentle voice.

Erik finally met his eyes, gaze cautious. "You're drunk, Mr Xavier." He said softly.

Charles huffed out a short laugh. "Yea, I probably am. But it doesn't make it any less true." He happened to glance at the clock on the wall. Eleven fifty-two. Behind Erik, through his floor-length windows, he could see faint lights in the distance from the countdown party on the Thames. "Don't go?"

Erik's gaze ran searchingly over Charles' face for long seconds. Charles let him, keeping from squirming under the intensity for fear of frightening Erik into bolting. He must have saw something that satisfied him, because he relaxed with a small, quick smile. "Okay." He whispered back.

They were standing side-by-side at the window, watching the lights flicker and change over the river, when Erik said out of the blue, awkwardly, and more than a little nervously, "I...very much looked forward to our conversations too."

"I'm glad to hear that." Charles smiled up at him, shy but thrilled. "Do you have any resolutions for the new year, Erik?"

Erik started to shake his head no, but instead paused, narrowed his eyes in thought, and then said with a small smile, "Now I do."

"Mmhm? And what would they be?"

He shook his head for real this time, gracing Charles with an enigmatic smile. "I'll tell you later. Look." He pointed.

In the distance, the countdown display from the party was just visible.

Ten. Charles grinned at Erik in excited anticipation.

Nine. "It's strange how excited people get, when there is absolutely no logical reason for the new year to be any better than the last, isn't it?" Erik commented lightly, teasingly, as he glanced over at Charles.

Five. "Oh hush! Let us pretend." Charles bumped his shoulder amiably against Erik's.

Three. Erik smirked back at Charles.

Two. Charles was chewing on his lower lip with barely contained glee, eyes alight.

One.

Charles broke into a delighted laugh as the first of the fireworks burst into the air, painting the night sky with a myriad of colours. "Happy New Year, Erik!"

But Erik was not watching the fireworks. Erik was watching Charles as he clapped and laughed with each burst of light. Brilliant Charles, who fought against the worst of society's hypocrisy and discrimination everyday, and still somehow managed to retain his childlike wonder. Charles who, for reasons he had yet to understand, somehow liked him back. He grinned at him. "Happy New Year, Charles."

The smile Charles gave him in response was blinding. "What did it take for you to finally call me Charles?"

"I thought it was appropriate," Erik shrugged, his eyes locked with Charles' as he slowly leaned in closer and closer, his voice dropping to a murmur, "considering..."

Charles was the one who closed the final distance between them. Their lips met with a soft, chaste touch, simultaneous sighs escaping them as their eyelids fluttered shut. They were both smiling shyly when they pulled back, but neither made to move away.

Erik reached out to link both their hands together. Running his thumbs lightly over Charles' knuckles, he asked, "Do you still want to know my New Year's resolution?"

Charles nodded.

"Okay. I have two actually." Erik swallowed nervously. "One, is to confess that since the second time I picked you up, I've been rushing to take every job with your name on them. And two is, ..." Erik paused to take a deep fortifying breath. "Will you go for coffee with me?"

Charles grinned, wide and happy. "Yes," he laughed, in between soft kisses, "yes, of course. And I'm really glad you did, Erik." He wrapped his arms around Erik's neck in a hug. "See, there is every logical reason for this year to be better than the last."

"You're ridiculous." Erik shook his head, chuckling softly, his tone impossibly fond.

"Well, we can't all be grumpy and cynical, can we?" Charles smiled as he turned back towards the window to catch the tail end of the display.

Erik just laughed and wrapped his arms around Charles' waist. Times were changing, the fight for mutant rights was slowly but surely moving forward, and here, on top of the world, with his hands clasped with Charles' and his cheek pressed against his hair, the new year was starting off very beautifully indeed.


End file.
